Mon Petit Ange
by taylorxtorniquet
Summary: What if Christine was not the first woman in Erik’s life to bring warmth to his heart? What if there was someone within the traveling fair who knew him before Madame Giry rescued him? This is the tale of Anya Romanoff.
1. Eden's Curse

_What if Christine was not the first woman in Erik's life to bring warmth to his heart? What if there was someone within the traveling fair who knew him before Madame Giry rescued him? This is the tale of Anya Romanoff._

_I do not own any thing from the Phantom of the Opera, only my character Anya Romanoff._

_Shouts, yelling, jeering, all of the most obnoxious noises sounded off in a poorly conducted harmony. The hay beneath her was crisp and uncomfortable. Gypsies wheeled the girl on horse and buggy while she remained unconscious in her cage. They had made bundles of gold with her freakish nature. 'Eden's Curse' they called her. A girl who could sprout pure white wings from her back, but of course it was considered demonic. Therefore she was dubbed, 'Eden's Curse.'_

_**Anya**_

When the lids shielding my eyes finally opened, everything was blurry and in motion. Swaying images of figures everywhere and the constant yells of voices were urging me to look and see, but my vision never ceased to stop its cruelty. When finally the images became clear, I found that I was indeed in a cage. I slowly lifted my head from what I felt was hay and sat up as quickly as my body would allow. Finally, I had regained control of my senses and observed where I was.

I already knew the fact that I was in a cage, but I soon saw a crowd of people gathered around my prison all pressed up against the bars. The people had an anxious look upon their face, some were even confused as to why a child of 7 would be in there. Finally, a sound was heard and silence filled the tent like structure as a man with a foreign accent spoke.

"Come one, come all and see Eden's Curse herself!" His voice tinged with mystery and greed.

I whirled around to see the man. He was indeed a gypsy with a black scruffy beard, balding head, ragged clothes and a whip in his hand. I slowly backed myself up on all fours against the wooden containment door, wishing to get away. He smirked and advanced towards me, yanking my hair in the process. He threw me onto my stomach, raising his arm in the process only to feel the sting of the whip on my rag clothed back.

"Ah! Please stop!" I tried begging him to cease his abuse, for I knew what he wanted. He wanted to see the very curse that was placed upon me. My wings. Some people outside of the cage were skeptical, seeing nothing physically wrong with me, they were close to telling him to stop. Until my back could no longer bare the sting of the unforgiving leather. The bird like structures tore through my tendons, muscles and bone, freeing themselves. The man ceased his abuse as people jeered and cursed at my new form of physicality.

"Freak!"

"Demon!"

"Devil!"

"Die with the rest of your kind!"

What rest of my kind? There was absolutely no one like me, no one with the kind of burden I had to face since birth. I let my tears fall, feeling the blood run down my back and into the hay. I could feel people tossing hard coins at me, mainly to pay for the show but also to put me in pain. I finally allowed my body to fall back onto the hay, as I slowly drifted into s state of sleep.

_**Erik**_

It's been 6 long years since I have been a part of this horrid place. I was but only 5 when my mother sold me for a sack of coins, unable to accept my face's horror. This burlap bag concealed my shame for only so long before that gypsy man would come and rip it off again. I cast my eyes down to the small monkey I created from pieces and fragments in my cage, some from objects thrown at me. I gently tapped it's symbols together, trying to put a tune in the air of night.

But the silence did not last, for there was shouting of names that would usually be directed at me. I gently placed the doll down and pressed myself against my cage to see what had happened. The crowd was gathered around a new 'attraction' as the gypsies here called it, their cries of horror and laughing echoed into the air. A sign hung on the cage that read 'Eden's Curse.' The gypsy man whipped something in the cage, but I could not see with the people surrounding it. Finally after 20 minutes, people began to disperse from the cage and allowed me to see what laid inside.

My eyes widened, and my heart clenched painfully at what I saw. A girl, almost my age lay there, bloody and forgotten in the hay. She had waist length chestnut hair and a small frail frame. But what drew me in, were the white bloody wings that lay on the hay and connected to her back. Her burlap dress had been bloodied and torn, and her face had paled more than those who had ever gazed upon my own. Another gypsy came over to me, a scowl upon his face. He ripped open my cage and bound me tightly. With nothing but a grunt he led me over to the girls cage and with one hand unlocked her confinements. He threw me along with a water rag into her prison and spoke.

"Clean her up boy! We don't need any more demon blood to stain our grounds." He laughed loudly and walked off, spitting along the way.

I finally softened my glare when my eyes turned to the girl inches before me. I made steady and slow crawling motions towards her in case she awoke. To my surprise, she did. Her eyes revealed to be the most beautiful shade of violet I have ever seen. They weren't too dark and they were not too light, but a soft amethyst. She instantly whimpered, thinking I was to cause harm to her. I gently calmed her as best as I could.

"Shh, it's alright…I won't hurt you. I' m in here to help you." My voice was soft and rid of its anger from the past years. This girl had an effect on me, and she had not even said a word to make it so. I gently set her head into my lap, so her stomach would be facing the ground.

"This will hurt somewhat, but I promise to be as gentle as possible." I soothed her with one hand stroking her tangled hair, and gently set the wet rage to her back and wings.

"Ow! Mmph!" She muffled her cries, trying to be strong and get through the pain. My heart once again was squeezed by an invisible force at her pain. I continued to stroke and smooth out her hair, soothing her the best that I could.

"I' m sorry! Are y-you alright?" I stuttered, hoping that the pain wasn't too great for her sake. Her eyes found mine through the bag I wore…and…and she smiled. The most beautiful image I had ever seen.

"I-I'm o-kay….really." Her voice was so fragile, so innocent. An angel's voice. I smiled gently under the bag and continued to treat her wounds with care. Her wings slowly folded into her back after 30 minutes of cleaning her. I slowly helped her sit up and let her lean against me. Her head rested on my bare shoulder and the rest of her body lay limp against me. I kept one hand behind her head and another on her back, keeping her steady and safe.

"What's y-your name?" Her voice was still so weak, but held such purity that I had not heard since childhood. I looked down from my eye holes and smiled.

"My name is Erik, what's yours if I may ask?" I wanted to know more than anything, something within my heart needed to know.

"Anya." Was her response before she gently eased herself from my arms. She sat up and leaned in toward me, examining the bag concealing my face. Her amethyst eyes searched my green ones, as if silently asking why I hid my face. So I answered her silent question with a gentle reply.

"I am quite hideous Anya. If you saw my face, you would probably scream." Her eyes still held that same innocence and curiosity as if now asking to see my face. She had been through a horrible night, I did not know if I could bring her any more horror. She twiddled her thumbs in anxiety and asked in her soft voice.

"Please, I want to know the only person who has ever shown me kindness. Please?" Her request was so small yet so big at the same time. I sighed and hesitantly brought my hands to the bag, finding that I could not deny her for some reason. Perhaps because of the treatment she endured tonight? No, it was somehow deeper than that…something I could not yet explain. I slowly lifted the bag off of my head and placed it into my lap. My eyes were clenched tightly, as the seconds ticked by with no sound what so ever. Suddenly I felt it, a hand, small and frail on my scarred cheek. I opened my eyes to see Anya touching my scarred cheek with kindness in her eyes.

"I don't see why you think you are hideous. I see nothing wrong with your face at all Erik. You are more beautiful than you know." Those words were ones that I would not forget for the rest of my life.

_**Anya**_

It had been 6 months since I became an attraction to the traveling fair, and Erik had become very protective of me. He would always clean me up and hold me after each show, singing to me softly. It hurt me greatly to see others laugh at him while the gypsy man beat his lean body, such a horrible thing to watch. On those nights, I would be in charge of taking care of him and gradually, I began singing to him. He always said how I was his angel, _mon petit ange _he called me. But I longed for us both to be free, and soon my very wish came true.

We were in Paris as the new entertainment, what else would we be? The gypsies would show Erik before they did me this night. I held his hand through the bars, our cages close to each other. I let a few tears fall, just as I did before every show. But they were not for my sake but for Erik, he was more ashamed of what he was then I. His eyes softened from beneath his bag and he used his other hand to wipe away the tears.

"I'll be okay _mon ange_. After this show, no matter my pain, I will sing to you as you've never heard me before. I promise." With that his cage was wheeled out into the open and away from me.

_**Erik**_

I sat there as the people of France swarmed my cage, intrigued by the _'Devil's Child' _sign that introduced me. A young ballerina stood against the bars and looked at me with pity and sadness. I held her gaze for a few seconds but looked down again to my small toy monkey, tapping it's symbols gently. The gypsy man came into my cage and kicked the toy out from my grasp, beating me with his can like object. Finally after 10 minutes of beating me, he removed my burlap bag, showing my face to the residents of France.

"The devil's child!" His voice was dark and amused. I quickly retrieved the bag and placed it over my head, as people threw money into my cage. One by one, they all began to leave. The last to go was the ballerina, slowly letting her hand slip away from my confinements. Once her back was turned, I noticed a rope tied on my cage, the one they wheeled me out with. I untied it while the gypsy counted his wealth, and quietly snuck up behind him.

'You will hurt us no more!" I thought angrily in my head. I put the rope around his neck harshly, and began to strangle him. He made gurgling noises and tried to resist, but I would not let him live after what he's done to Anya and I. He finally fell dead at my feet, motionless as a board. I picked up my toy that lay by him and stood up, only to see the ballerina girl standing there in shock. I quickly took his, opened my confinements and ran to Anya's cage in the process, the ballerina not far behind.

"Anya!" I called her sweet name only to see her head snap up in surprise. She screamed, along with the ballerina. I turned to see a gypsy man with a look of horror on his face. I then ran the rest of the way to her cage, the ballerina gripping my hand.

"Anya, no! I won't leave without you!" I could never leave her, I wouldn't be the same without my angel, my friend, my….

"Erik please, just go! I promise I'll see you again someday, I promise! GO!" Her voice was desperate and I had no choice but to obey, for the police were coming. I gave her hand a final squeeze and ran with the ballerina girl, to my new life, and away from my love.


	2. Fourteen Years Into the Present

_I do not own any thing from the Phantom of the Opera, only my character Anya Romanoff._

_Feedback on how I continue this would be lovely, and Anya is in no way a Mary-Sue. The first chapter was simply her personality as a child. I am skipping quite some years, but it will be explained. The tune of the song Anya sings is actually Once Upon A December in the Russian version. Enjoy!_

* * *

_**Anya**_

It has been 14 years since the night Erik had escaped the gypsy camp, gone to a place where I know not. During the few weeks the camp remained in Paris due to heavy questioning after the murder, I had been able to escape my confinements with the skill of lock picking. It wasn't long after that I stumbled upon a blind man by the name Ivan Romanoff. Ivan had been 57 at the time, and he was noticeably blind. In his kindness he offered me to live with him and his wife Katya.

* * *

_Flashback_

She stumbled across the sidewalk, willing her legs to walk faster and farther away from the gypsies. It had been weeks since Erik had escaped, weeks since she had lost her only friend. Sure, she cried for a good period of time but came to the understanding that even if she was there; it was not the right place for him to be in. So here she was, walking through Paris trying to find refuge of any possible kind. Her legs were greatly sore and her muscles felt constricted, but that did not stop this child.

Upon walking further she began hearing light footsteps, and what seemed to be a cane hitting the pavement in a tapping noise. The world seemed to sway gently before her eyes, side effects from being starved by the gypsies. The police had come into investigate more thoroughly of the ring leader's death, saying that their little freak show was under possible consideration of being shut down. Of course at this time, they had become careless and allowed anything to lie around amongst her cage. This gave her the opportunity to use a piece of tin to pick lock her way out of the confinements in which she was kept.

Coming back to the real world, she found herself face to face with a man that appeared to be in his late fifties at most. He had a head of dark gray hair, a dark and thick beard with a mustache to match, dressed in a middle class outfit, and carried a stick of some sort. But what interested her the most was his eyes, the milky white over shadowed his barely visible brown pigment. She could tell that he was blind, she had seen every possible kind of disability. He had a gentle smile on his face and seemed to almost be looking at her.

"Hello there. Who might you be?" His voice was heavily accented with a Russian accent, but his English and pronunciation was astounding. She quickly gained her wits and responded.

"I…am Anya, just Anya." Her voice came out in a child like whisper, as most children would be when meeting a stranger. The man seemed to realize that she was a child, and instantly kneeled down to her height. He had brilliant senses as to exactly where she was, due to the fact that he was perfectly situated before her.

"Ah Anya! A beautiful Russian name no doubt! Tell me young one, what is the rest of your name? Perhaps we can find your family." His voice was so kind, something she hadn't know since Erik left.

"I don't know more than Anya sir, and…I don't really have a family. I….well I came from a circus of gypsies and….." But before she could continue, he interrupted.

"Gypsies!? How cruel, to keep one at your age as entertainment for profit. It is disgusting, absolutely outrageous!" He began muttering darkly to himself in a language she was not familiar with, Russian perhaps. But he quickly composed himself, remembering that there was a child in his presence.

"Well, I have made up my mind. You my dear Anya will live with my wife Katya and I, no child should have to grow up without love. But I warn you, Katya has always wanted a little girl so I suggest you hide your cheeks." He laughed heartily and stood back up. He then reached out his hand to Anya, beckoning her to take it.

"Come Anya, let us leave to your new home. From now on, you shall be the daughter of Ivan and Katya Romanoff." Her face lit up to an extreme amount of joy as she took Ivan's hand and walked with him to her future, no longer remembering the pain that her body gave her.

_Flashback ends_

* * *

She smiled at the memory of her first encounter with her future father, Ivan Romanoff. Now he was a man of 71 years, but still as strong as ever. His wife and her mother Katya was pushing 60, and doing a damn good job at keeping her image as youthful as it would allow. Katya had managed to keep her hair brown with a few gray lines, but her skin showed wrinkles here and there. Katya was a full blooded Russian woman with a stubborn personality. Yet upon meeting Anya, her tough exterior melted and she grabbed the girls head, kissing her face with delight. Ivan had become weaker due to his aging, but to everyone's surprise, he refused to let his legs keep him from walking.

So here she sat, a now 21 year old Anya Romanoff, knitting a scarf for her father. Anya had grown from pretty to stunning in a matter of years. Her chestnut hair was kept in check by Katya, letting her cut it up to her lower back but no higher. Her eyes remained the soft amethyst that they were, mixing with a bit of blue every now and then. Her figure had stayed in its petite state, but she developed curves that caught the attentions of men around her, which usually ended with Katya smacking them upside the head and cursing in Russian.

As for her 'curse' as it was dubbed, Ivan and Katya came to accept it with time. Being a child when her secret was revealed to them, they did not want to hurt her any more than she had already been emotionally. With time, they came to ask frequently to even pet her wings, pet them! Such strange people to accept such a strange girl.

Gently laughing at the memory, she placed the scarf and knitting utensils down to stretch her limbs. She stood and lifted her arms above the small height of her body, one thing in particular that Ivan loved to tease her about. Katya always measured her each year, relaying to Ivan each growth spur she had. Of course they were not major, and Ivan was a good 6'1 so of course he'd tease her. She currently stood at 5'5, not something she was entirely proud of but always shook it off. She began to hum a tune that she had often sang to Erik, and with the help of Katya, was able to translate it into Russian.

_Kak uzor na okne.  
(Like a pattern on a window)_

Snova proshloe rjadom.  
(The past is near again)

Kto-to pel pesnju mne.  
(Someone sang a song to me)

V zimniy vecher kogda-to.  
(One winter night sometime)

Slovno v proshlom ozhilo.  
(As if coming alive in the past)

Ch'ikh-to bereznhykh ruk teplo.  
(The warmth of someone's gentle arms)

"Anya, hurry up! We shall be late to see Antoinette!" Her song was interrupted by Katya's urgent yell for her to hurry. They were to be visiting a daughter of a friend of both Ivan and Katya's named Antoinette Giry, someone they had not seen since adopting Anya. She smoothed out any wrinkles in her midnight blue dress. She sprang down the stairs, rather excited to be meeting this woman, she supposedly had a daughter a bit younger than Anya by the name of Meg. Skipping the last step, she found herself in front of an impatient looking Katya, her foot tapping profusely.

"Anastasia Elizavetta Romanoff! You day dream more than any child I have ever seen in my life time. Bah, never mind we must be going!" Did she mention that Katya had elongated her name? Well, she had most certainly taken the opportunity. She smiled gently at her mother, seeing the affection behind her stern eyes.

"Of course mother dear." A reply she used often to calm Katya when she became irritated or annoyed for whatever purpose. Walking briskly with her mother, she was greeted with the sight of her father standing in front of the carriage sent to pick them up. He had a slight hunch to his posture now a day, not use to maneuvering around Paris as much anymore.

"Are those my two girls I hear?" With that he had already opened his arms to the running Anya, always ready to take in one of her affectionate hugs. She laughed as he stumbled a bit, she was becoming just like Katya in so many ways.

"By the greeting, I will have to guess that this is my little Anya! Am I right?" He ruffled her hair, letting a warm laugh resonate from his chest. Katya almost lost her sanity for a second.

"Ivan!? I spent all morning working on your daughter's hair; it's longer than a horses tail!" With that she rushed them both into the carriage and began smoothing out Anya's hair.

"Oh my dear Katya, you know I cannot resist teasing my only daughter." He held a warm smile on his face as he placed his hand on his wife's knee, memorizing where she usually sat in the carriage. Katya formed a blush on her aging face.

"Oh Ivan, you old charmer!" She placed her hand atop his on her knee, reminiscing their teenage life to Anya. After a good 20 minutes, Anya's attention had been directed away from Katya's tale as they approached their destination; _The Opera Populaire_.

Erik will make his adult appearance, and I know that's what you have all been waiting for! Please give me feedback and any tips you might have to improve my story. Thank you!


	3. Of Phantoms and Angels

_Here is the chapter I am sure you have been anticipating. Erik is finally here! I could not keeping you all waiting any longer, it just wouldn't be right. Once again, I do not own anything from The Phantom of the Opera, only my OC Anya is mine. __**ALSO, at the very bottom of the page is something I hope you all participate in!**__ Enjoy!_

_**Anya**_

Her eyes were absolutely swimming with fascination and excitement. The Opera Populaire was the most lavish building she had ever laid eyes on. Every crevice and detail was precise and exquisitely remarkable. She had little words to describe the building; it was like something from a dream, or a dream of a dream. But her trance was soon cut short as she felt a hand gently grasp her shoulder. She turned with a jump only to see Katya with a worried expression, eyebrow raised in the process.

"Anya, did you not hear me? We have arrived child." Katya's response was simple and to the point.

"I know." Her response was but a whisper, keeping a small smile spread onto her lips. Ivan smiled a gentle smile, his eyes fixed away from Katya and Anya.

"Let us not keep Antoinette waiting my dears; she gets her patience from her mother you know." Ivan's statement caused Katya to stifle a laugh and gently help her husband out of the carriage, Anya not far behind. She took Katya's strong hand and gently set her feet to the ground, breathing in the day's air. Her dark brown hair swayed gently in the wind as she walked behind her family, taking in every sight as she did. A gentle smile kept its place at the corners of her mouth and a small twinkle found its way into her gentle eyes.

Noticing that she was now day dreaming once again, she picked up her speed to catch up with her guardians. When they finally came to the magnificent buildings doors, Anya released a breath that even she did not know she was holding. The inside of the Opera house was even better than the outsides contents.

Every décor held what seemed to be a story in her eyes, something to connect with. She felt familiar with everything around her for some unexplainable reason, but something hidden made it so. Statues of gold hung from the wall, elegant and created with human like poise. The floors were a magnificent marble white, the stairs were draped with fabric going down, and each doorman had aristocratic wigs and attire adorned. Now to be the second time, she was broken away from the beautiful sights to a few fast pairs of footsteps.

_**Antoinette**_

Madame Giry stood stoic and stiff, watching the young ballerinas glide across the stage. Her face was stiff and straight as it had always been, but she still held onto her classical beauty even at her age. One, two, three. Point, kick, turn. No! No! NO! These ballerinas could do nothing right in her wise eyes.

"Erm, pardon me Madame." A shaky voice interrupted.

"What? Make it quick, can you not see I am in the midst of rehearsal?" Her voice was quick and to the point as she peeked from the corner of her eyes at the servant.

"Well Madame you s-"

"ANNABELLE! Point your toes girl, POINT NOT BEND, POINT! You were saying?" Her loud command still echoed through the opera house as the man kept a few centimeters of space between himself and the dance coach.

"Uh, well your g-guests have ar-arrived Madame." His meek voice stuttered after the woman's interruption.

"Ah, very well. GIRLS! Practice is over for now, but I expect the routine to be perfect. Am I understood?" All of the girls nodded and were soon dismissed as the woman made her way to greet her friends.

_**Erik (The Phantom)**_

He sat quietly in front of his organ, reading over music that had yet to be perfected. The only problem with this situation was that he himself was a perfectionist; never pleased with his final result. As a means to cure his frustration, he dismissed himself to the upper part of the opera house. His black cloak flowed behind him as if it were simply a ghost encased within black velvet and his ocean eyes pierced right through the fog before him.

Erik's steps were light yet swift as he stepped from the gondola and onto the stone floors of his own secret world; for once determined to walk hidden amongst the outside world. Slipping into the shadows he managed to stumble upon the sight of Antoinette training the young ballerinas; a small smile appeared as he watched.

_Flashback_

"_Erik look! Look what I can do!" The little girl spun gracefully in a full circle but managed to land on her rear. The boy let out a bellow of laughter as he lightly jogged over to help the girl._

"_Well aren't you just a regular swan?" He chuckled pulling the girl to her feet, her face in a playful pout._

"_Hmph, well let's see you do better!" Her eyes triggered with mischief as he went into mock thought._

"_Well, you have me there." With that, the boy picked her up and spun her around; taking in her angelic laughter._

_Flashback Ends_

"Anya..." It was but a whisper but his heart was already beating louder than any instrument he knew of. The Phantom missed the little angel more than he could ever fathom, always drawing images of what she could look like now…if she was even still alive. Surviving on the streets of Paris is a difficult thing to do, especially if you were put on display as a freak in a gypsy's circus.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Antoinette dismissed the girls early, rather odd for her character. Madame Antoinette Giry _never _dismissed practice early, so naturally it was his instinct to see where she was headed. After many corridors and quiet sneaking, he was lead to the Ball Room where three strangers were present. Antoinette greeted the more elderly two of the trio with warm hugs.

The man was dressed in an old yet elegant looking suit, his silver cane complimenting his graying hair. His face held a thick mustache and his eyes were glazed over in an odd sort of way; the man was blind. Even without seeing his eyes Erik could see it in the man's careful movements.

The woman wore a long gown in the shade of a dark emerald; a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She was beautiful for her age and definitely dressed more appropriately than some of the other old win bags of the opera. Her hair graying hair was styled a similar way to Antoinette's and her face held a warm smile.

And the girl…she was…so beautifully familiar. Her long chestnut hair reached her mid back in soft waves, her dress was a perfect fit of midnight blue; hugging her body in just the right way. But what drew the Phantom in was her eyes, amethyst with a hint of blue. This girl reminded him exactly of-

"Anya! Don't be shy, say hello to Antoinette, she gave us her word she would not bite." The old woman's voice chuckled to the girl.

His eyes widened and his mouth went slightly agape, Anya? Was she really the little girl he had grown to love? In his desperation, Erik climbed down to a lower part of the Ball Room and peered from behind the girl. As he watched Antoinette gently embrace the girl, her hand touched a part of her back that cause a barely noticeable twitch. His heart thudded joyfully in his chest; that twitch, those eyes, that smile…this, had to be his Anya, it just had to be.

_**Antoinette**_

Her meeting with the now older Ivan and Katya was most pleasant, but that girl…there was something oddly familiar about her; and she could have sworn she felt something twitch within her back upon embracing her. She watched the three walk into the theatre as they were escorted by a servant. She then turned slightly and faintly smirked.

"You can come out now Erik, I know you are there." She always felt his presence no matter how hard he hid. As if on cue, he emerged from behind one of the golden statues but kept himself within shadow; allowing Antoinette to walk over.

"You did not tell me that there were to be guests in my opera house Antoinette." His voice was smooth like velvet and his gaze was like stone.

"The man and the woman are Ivan and Katya Romanoff, friends of my parents whom I have not seen in a long while, they are to be staying within the opera hou-"

"And the girl, Antoinette." His voice cut her off, but his eyes showed desperation to know.

"She is Anya Romanoff, their adopted daughter." Her answer was simple as she watched Erik's face lighten slightly.

"Erik, does she seem familiar to you in any way? I know that look."

"It's her Antoinette, it must be!"

"You mean the girl? The one who helped me to free you from the circus?"

"Precisely! I would know her eyes anywhere, it is Anya Antoinette, I've finally found my Anya…" His voice drifted off as gazed at the doors to which she and her family were led. Madame Giry knew that he wanted to follow after young Anya; with a deep sigh she began to walk towards the theatre.

"I hope you are right Erik, for the sake of your sanity." Her voice faded away as she entered the theatre.

"Sanity is mere child's play my friend, mere child's play." With a swish of his cloak he was gone, becoming one with the shadows once more.

**Review and Read the message below!**

**IMPORTANT! **I am having a contest called **'One Shot Challenge: Maleficent Style' **Basically, you can make me a **well written** and **decently sized **one shot with **Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty and my OC **(message me for her details). Rules are it **NEEDS** to be **romantic**, show a **softer side** of Maleficent but **keep her elegant and evil composure**. The winner will receive **THREE** one shots from me with whom ever they want. You must message me for my OC's details and also so I can give you a due date. Please do consider it!


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